Adventures in babysitting
by LynstHolin
Summary: De-aging fic. Harry Potter has to take care of a three-year-old Draco. Short and light. No pairings. Based on an idea from ffnetter HybridChaos.


"The antidote will take a few hours to work. In the meantime, you'll have to mind him. I don't have time to look after a pre-schooler," Madam Pomfrey told Harry.

Harry looked down at a three-year-old Draco, who was humming and crawling under the hospital cots. "B-but I don't know what to do with a little kid!"

The Matron snorted. "Come, now. It's not all that complicated. Feed him, take him to the toilet as soon as he asks, and make sure to not to let him do anything that might kill him. Taking care of Malfoy will teach you to be a little more careful how you wave your wand." She bustled off to attend to a student afflicted with thick, gnarly fingernails.

"Come on, Draco." A pixie-like visage grinned up at Harry from under a cot; it seemed like a full half of Draco's face was taken up by his eyes. "We're going to Hogsmeade." The little boy showed no signs of wanted to leave his hiding place. "Do you want some candy from Honeydukes?"

"CANDY!" Draco scrambled out from under the cot and ran at Harry full-tilt. He took Harry's hand as they headed for the door.

"Don't you dare foist him off on anyone else, Potter!" Pomfrey called after him.

"Hey, look, Potter's a pedo!"

Harry flashed a rude gesture at Seamus. He certainly hadn't planned on spending the day baby-sitting. The back of his neck had itched, he'd used the base of his wand to scratch it and somehow, BAM, Malfoy had been transformed into his three-year-old self. As far as little kids went, Malfoy was pretty cute, but baby-sitting was not really the way a fifteen-year-old boy wanted to spend an afternoon.

"You're walking too fast!" Draco yelled in his squeaky little voice. "You're hurting my arm!"

Harry sighed and slowed down so his charge could skip along beside him instead of being dragged. It was going to take forever to get to town. Within ten minutes, Harry was far behind all the other students.

Halfway to Hogsmeade, Draco said, "My legs are tired. Up."

Harry picked the little boy up, and Draco did a monkey-cling. "Oof. You're heavier than you look." This day couldn't end fast enough, as far as Harry was concerned. After a few minutes, Harry said, "You'll have to get down, Malfoy, my arms are starting to hurt." Draco just clung harder. Harry leaned forward and shook himself, trying to dislodge the boy.

"I'll tell my father if you're not nice to me!" the little boy shouted into Harry's ear.

Wonderful. Three years old, and still a brat.

By the time they reached Hogsmeade, Harry's arms had gone numb. As soon as he caught sight of the multi-colored display of yummy things in the front window of Honeyduke's, Draco leapt off of Harry. The door to the candy shop was open, and Draco ran right in and grabbed a licorice whip, which he started shoving into his mouth. "Bad Malfoy! You have to pay before you eat things," Harry scolded. The woman working the counter gave Harry a hard look as he handed her some Sickles.

Draco's attention was caught by a wooden rack full of lollipops. Before Harry could stop him, the little boy had started to climb the rack, knocking the entire thing down. Bits of shattered lollies skidded all over the floor. "_Out_," the woman behind the counter ordered.

Harry tackled Draco around the waist and carried him out. The little boy started wailing like a siren. "It's your own fault, Malfoy! You need to learn to behave!"

"Want Mummy," Draco snivelled.

"Mummy's not here. You've got me. Lucky, lucky me." Harry set the sobbing boy down and led him down the street. He paused in front of Spintwitches, which had a display of the newest Quidditch broomsticks."Look, I bet your father will buy you one of those if you're good."

Draco was quiet for a moment or two, watching the broomsticks hover and spin. "I've got to wee," he announced.

"Just a minute." Harry was enjoying a daydream about winning his next Quidditch match.

"I have to wee _now_."

"Hold it!" Harry said impatiently. "Oh, what are you bawling about now? You're so annoying!" That was when he saw the puddle underneath Draco's robes. Bloody hell! Now what? If only Molly Weasley was here to help.

Madame Rosemerta smiled when she saw Harry bring the crying boy into the Three Broomsticks. "The mens' is free," she called. Harry brought Draco into the restroom and pulled the boy's robes off, leaving him clad in a pair of tiny y-fronts patterned with flying owls. All right. Now what? A drying charm?

BAM! A nearly-adult-sized Draco now stood before Harry. "You actually wear underpants with owls on them? I thought that was just because you were three years old," Harry asked, rather stupidly. A shove cracked his spine painfully against the wall.

Grimacing, Draco skimmed off his wet y-fronts. "Give me your jeans, Potter."

"What? No!"

Draco dangled his soggy robes between two fingers. "Since they weren't actually on me when I turned back, they're still infant-sized, and they're too smelly to wear, anyway, because a certain_ idiot _didn't get me to the toilet in time. Give me your jeans, or I'll have Crabbe and Goyle give you swirlies every day for a month.

"What am _I_ going to wear, than?"

"I couldn't care less. Maybe Madam Rosemerta will help you." Draco located his wand in the miniature robes and pointed it straight at Harry.

After pulling on Harry's jeans, Draco checked himself out in the mirror, admiring the way his denim-clad bottom looked. "Don't have any children, Potter," he tossed over his shoulder as he exited, "You're absolute crap at child care."


End file.
